


Written on his skin

by LostCauses (Anteros)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, eruri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/LostCauses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the deaths and the guilt get to Erwin.</p><p>Erwin Smith does not drink when he is in command. That’s why Levi knows it’s bad news when he returns from the bar one night and finds Erwin, not at his desk where he left him, working through the inevitable pile of paper work, but sitting on the floor by the window, glass in hand, a half empty bottle by his side.</p><p>A short angsty one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written on his skin

**Author's Note:**

> My first Eruri fic. Enjoy.

Erwin Smith does not drink when he is in command. And he is always in command. Sometimes he will accompany the men to the cheap bars that cluster round the barracks and stand them round after round after round until they are so blind drunk that they forget the names of the comrades who are no longer with them. None of them notice that the drink in his hand at the end of the night is the same one he has been nursing all evening. No one except Levi of course. 

Levi himself drinks with the best of them. He can drink any one of the Survey Corps under the table, except perhaps Hanje, and has done so many times. Typically, no one can ever recall actually seeing him drunk. In the eyes of the recruits it’s just one more part of the mythology that sets heichou above the likes of mere mortals. They don’t need to know that as a kid growing up in the underground he learned the hard way the consequences of getting wasted out of his skull and letting his guard down. A thin faded scar running under his ribs acts as a permanent reminder. As if he needed one. So Levi can understand Erwin’s impulse to maintain control, to never let a single crack appear in the smooth and impenetrable veneer of command. 

That’s why he knows it’s bad news when he returns from the bar one night and finds Erwin, not at his desk where he left him, working through the inevitable pile of paper work, but sitting on the floor by the window, glass in hand, a half empty bottle by his side.

Erwin doesn’t acknowledge Levi as he enters the room. Levi pauses for a moment trying to gauge his mood. 

“Hey,” he says. 

Erwin does not reply. Not good then. 

Levi shrugs out of his jacket and picks his way around the desk, stepping over drifts of paper scattered across the floor. Erwin lifts the glass and takes a long drink, grimacing as he swallows. Levi’s is standing right in front of him now, close enough to smell the cheap spirit on his breath. 

“This a private party?” 

Without raising his head, Erwin gestures vaguely, a few drops of liquor slosh out of the glass, spattering onto the floor. Levi frowns, irritation prickling under his collar. He squats down and settles on the floor beside Erwin, careful to avoid the small puddle of amber liquid pooling beside him. 

“If I’d known you were going to get shitfaced I could’ve joined you.”

“Sorry Levi, I’m not much company tonight.” 

Erwin’s tone is calm and measured as always but his words are slurred. He still isn’t looking at Levi. 

“Better company than those fucking lightweights in the bar,” Levi snorts. “Jean’s already under the table and, if Hanje has their way, Eren will be joining him there soon. They’ve got a bet on with Mike.” 

He picks up the bottle, sniffs, takes a swig and coughs as the rough spirit burns down the back of his throat. 

“Fuck, Erwin, why are you drinking this crap? That shit will turn you blind and that’ll be the least of your worries in the morning.” 

Erwin lifts the glass, examining it carefully, before tipping the remainder of the liquor down his throat. That’s when Levi notices the ink staining his fingers, black prints smearing the glass. A ball of paper is crumpled by his side, Levi reaches over and picks it up. Erwin makes no move to stop him, but he exhales a long unsteady breath, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. Smoothing out the creases, Levi recognises the letter immediately. The paper is fine and heavy with the wings of the Survey Corps embossed at the top. It’s not standard issue, nothing this good for the scouts, Levi knows that Erwin supplies it himself.

Under the crest, written in Erwin’s elegant cursive script, is a single name followed by a rank and a district. Below are lines that Levi knows Erwin has written hundreds of times over, lines he himself knows by heart. _Brave comrade… glory of humanity…ultimate sacrifice…never forgotten._ Signed Commander E. Smith, Survey Corps. 

Erwin insists on writing every letter in his own hand. It’s one of his idiosyncrasies. Other commanders have aides de camp for that kind of thing but not Erwin, he writes every one himself. Levi has watched him sit up through the night writing letter after letter, his face grey and drawn when he finally douses the light and stumbles through to bed. Levi sometimes offers to write the letters for him, but Erwin declines on the basis that his handwriting is barely legible. Levi has to concede he has a point but, just occasionally, Levi himself insists. He still remembers the anger and the emptiness as he carefully wrote out each name below the winged crest. 

Eld Jin. 

Gunther Schultz. 

Oluo Bozado. 

Petra Ral. 

Levi doesn’t recognise the name on this letter, but the district catches his eye. 

“Shiganshina huh? Surprised he had anyone left to write to.” He knows most of the men, though not all by a long shot. “Who was he?” 

Erwin’s eyes are still closed. “I don’t know,” he breathes out. 

“New recruit?”

Erwin nods. “Division that came in last week.” 

“Shit. He didn’t last long. What happened?”

“What does it matter? He’s dead.” 

There’s bitterness in his tone that makes Levi flinch. Erwin cares deeply about the men and women who serve under his command. Levi knows that every life lost weighs heavily on his conscience. He knows it’s the drink talking; the drink and the guilt. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t I?” 

“How’d he die?” Levi presses. Suddenly he needs to know how the poor fucker met his end. Perhaps if he knows, he can share the burden of guilt, help to lift the dead weight off Erwin’s shoulders. 

“I killed him.” He speaks slowly, clearly trying to stop the words from slurring. 

“Don’t give me that shit Erwin.” Levi’s temper is stirring. 

“What shit? I gave the order. I sent him out there to his death. I killed him.” 

“You know that’s bullshit.” 

Levi hates to see Erwin like this; it terrifies him beyond measure. Erwin is the one solid thing he can believe in unquestioningly. The only one in this fucked up world that he trusts unconditionally. He is afraid that if Erwin crumbles, he will break apart and all the fear and anger and regret that hums below the surface of his skin will spill out and overwhelm him. 

“He came here to do a job. That’s why we’re here remember? Saviours of humanity and all that crap.”

“Yes,” Erwin agrees reasonably, “that’s why we’re here, and next time it could be you.”

He’s looking at Levi now, eyes glassy and hooded. Levi is pinned by that familiar blue gaze. He shifts uncomfortably. He has always felt that Erwin is able to look right through him, now more so than ever. 

“You live and die on my command Levi.” 

Levi stills beside him. Of course he would die for Erwin, willingly, by his own volition, no command needed. But he can’t put it into words. Levi has never been good with words. 

“Tch. Well at least when I’m gone you won’t have to waste your time writing pointless letters.” 

There’s no bitterness, no regret, in his words. It’s true. Who would Erwin write to? Levi has no one. No one but Erwin. 

“What if he threw his life away for nothing? What if we’re all dying for nothing? What if it’s all just worthless?” 

Levi winces, his own words from years before echoing back to him. 

“Your eyes are clouded old man.”

“What if,” Erwin is looking at the floor again, his voice low and hoarse, “what if the only thing he died for was my pride and arrogance?” 

Levi’s patience is at an end. 

“I don’t have the answers, but I’ve heard enough of this shit.”

He pushes himself up from the floor, holding out one hand to Erwin.

“Come on, get up.”

But Erwin’s not finished yet. 

“I didn’t even know him Levi. I sent him out to die and I didn’t even know his fucking name.” 

“Yeah? Well you know mine, so fucking move it. Get up. Don’t just sit there like a piece of shit.”

Levi seizes him by his collar and hauls Erwin unsteadily to his feet. Erwin stumbles forward as he rises and Levi has to step backwards to brace himself against his weight. 

“Fuck sake Smith get it together,” he hisses. 

Erwin leans back against the wall to steady himself, one hand still gripping Levi’s shoulder. 

“Shit Levi, I’m sorry, you don’t need this.” He releases Levi’s shoulder and runs his hand over his eyes, pushing his hair back where it has fallen over his face. There is something oddly vulnerable in the gesture and Levi feels something twisting in his chest. 

“Hey,” Levi steps forward and reaches up to cup Erwin’s face in his hands, his voice low, “If you really want to show me you’re sorry, you can do it in there.” He jerks his head towards the bedroom adjacent to the office. 

Somehow they make it through the door and on to the bed where Levi lets Erwin fall apart. He holds him and repeats his name over and over, _Erwin, Erwin, Erwin_ , until something breaks through, Erwin hears him and responds to the summons. Then Levi puts him back together, piece by piece, with his hands and his body and his tongue and his voice. Levi gives himself completely, holding nothing back. 

The next morning the commander is back at his desk, planning the next expedition, papers arranged neatly in their customary files. Levi wakes alone in Erwin’s bed, his body smudged with black inky fingerprints. An epitaph written on his skin, signed Commander E Smith.


End file.
